Kill, Save, Liberate!
by Zaru
Summary: Co-written with FernandelDeLaFrance. When the young Emperor calls out to the World Government for assistance against the Rebellion, the Five Elder Stars send a Navy fleet to the Empire to put it down. Dragon's Revolution catches wind and responds and the entire world's foundations will shake when the Navy, the Imperialists, Night Raid, and Dragon's Revolutionaries collide!
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

* * *

The rain started in the evening.

Clouds had gathered throughout the afternoon, hovering over the land like a bad, unwanted memory. The gardeners had grunted and grumbled as they packed and stowed their tools. Rain was good for the plants, but would muddy the pristine white gravel walkways, and disarray the carefully-arranged flowerbeds. The master of the mansion on the hill, their employer, hated nothing more than an unkempt garden. They would suffer dearly if his daily inspections did not meet his standards of 'acceptable' work.

The younger gardeners muttered amongst themselves that an entitled bastard who had never lifted a hoe in his life or pulled up weeds by the roots had no idea what sort of work was 'acceptable'. They were shushed by their elders, who knew better than to provoke their master's generally volatile temper. For them, the extra work was the price of a quiet life; without the lash upon their backs.

The gardeners slunk off to their sheds and homes, the maids and manservants locked the shutters to the windows where they could, and the guards pulled out their oiled cloaks, grumbling about their master's paranoia forcing them to pull double shifts in such horrible weather when a glass of spiced rum at the fireplace seemed so much more comfortable.

The storm hit, the trees swaying wildly. The houses creaked, raindrops clattering against windows like a neverending fusillade. The wind howled, like the man-eating beasts that roamed the wilderness.

The guards went on their appointed rounds, pushing through the constant gusts of winds with all their strength, cursing the clouds that had taken away the moonlight. Their only illumination were the lanterns in their hands and the frozen images burned into their eyes with every flash of lightning.

They could not have known what was coming for them. They would never have believed that anyone would come out in such a storm. Yet with every lightning flash, a pair of guards disappeared, without struggle or sound that anyone could hear. After a half-dozen flashes, some of the guards began to notice the absences. They only grumbled, resentful that they had to shiver in the rain while others dared their master's wrath by staying indoors.

A few flashes later, and they too were gone.

Inside the mansion itself, their employer stood before the tall, broad window of his study, looking out over the grounds. He was thin and sallow-faced, clad in an outfit worth his servants' salaries many times over. He watched the rain battering the windows, nervously twirling a tumbler of amber liquid in his hands. He downed the brandy in one undignified gulp.

"I really should have returned to the capital," he muttered to himself, yanking at his cravat. "Honest was right about this place being unsafe. Why didn't I listen to him?"

He coughed, the burn of the brandy comforting him, and he hastily refilled his glass with shaking fingers.

"Everything will be fine," he reassured himself, quaffing half the glass as he turned back to look out the window. "Everything will be just—"

Lightning struck again, and the man froze in absolute terror. For a moment, he could have sworn that he'd seen the reflection of a man in the room with him, a yellow-eyed knight in white armour splattered with red.

He turned to look as another flash of lightning cast shadows across the room.

And there the knight was.

The storm calmed itself in the early morning, the clouds vanishing as the sun rose in the east, warm light filling the halls of the mansion and the grounds. The servants rose early, happy that they had weathered the storm unscathed, and the majordomo knocked on the door to his master's study.

He entered without asking—the lord was a notorious layabout—and discovered him sitting in the armchair behind his desk, a knife stuck into his chest and an expression of utter terror on his face. A note was pinned between handle and corpse, and the majordomo recognized the sign of the owl and moon with a sickly lurch in his heart.

When he ran outside to alert the guards, he only heard shouts and screams as the gardeners and maids discovered rows of shot, strangled, and disfigured soldiers neatly lined up by the walkways leading to the mansion.

The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, careless of the night that preceded it.

* * *

 _ **AN: Okay so... people who are following. By which I mean about a good 90% of ya'll because who goes into the Akame ga Kill crossover section and then clicks on One Piece, you might have seen my mass Author Note send out in which I spoke of several stories. One of which being Outcry which I am writing with LD1449. The other being Kill, Save, Liberate which is out on both Sufficient Velocity and Spacebattles. After talking and consideration with my co-writer, we decided that we will go ahead and post this story here onto under my profile due to Fernandel's life constricting him like an anaconda.**_

 _ **Now this is just the prologue. Something short and sweet. The next chapter will come out on a weekly basis so that I can have a cushion to post as I need to get working on other chapters. I figured out that sometimes 2-3k word chapters is more managable than gunning for the big 10k ones. 10k big ones will only take place on certain fights and events but for the most part, look for the chapters to end up around the 2-3k range at least and averaging around 4-6k words.**_

 _ **CEM isn't dead. It has some life. But I'm going at that in a snail's pace. This story? Probably not so much hopefully as I really REALLY love this idea. It's probably the best the cauldron inside my brain has concocted and god bless Fernandel for writing it with me.**_

 _ **Shout out to Juubi-K, KokuenDF, and cxjenious for beta reading! Feel free to review and leave your thoughts. And if anyone still wants to adopt my other projects, feel free to PM me and we can talk.**_


	2. Chapter 1- Save The Empire

**_Akame ga kill and One Piece does not belong to me nor FernandelDeLaFrance. It is own by Takahiro and Eichiro Oda respectively_**

* * *

Another day, another killing.

Prime Minister Honest munched on a leg of turkey as he looked over the reports from the Military Police. One of the men of his inner circle, Ohmit, had been found dead along with his guards at his estate outside the Capital City.

And the note claimed a group of murderers—Night Raid, as they apparently called themselves—as the responsible party.

Honest didn't grieve Ohmit's death too much. He had warned the fool to return to the safety of the Capital, but the man had always been stubborn. Well, perhaps the others in his little circle would heed his warnings more carefully now.

"This is troubling," said young Emperor Makoto, who was sitting across from him.

Honest perked up. He might be on this side of the Imperial desk, but both he and his friends knew the truth of who ran the empire. "Sire?"

"I read the reports. This Night Raid group has been terrorizing the populace while the bulk of our army is out fighting our enemies. This is terrible, Minister!"

The boy sitting across from him - the boy who was the centre of everything - stared at him with wide, innocent, hurt eyes. Honest had known him all his life, and knew him better than he knew himself. He was so very pure, so very innocent, so very gentle; and so very easy to manipulate.

This time it had been a police report, carefully edited to make the murders seem so much more gruesome than they had actually been. The recipe was a substantial amount of gold, a few willing young ladies, and a police inspector with a taste for both. Those ingredients, carefully applied, saw Makoto sign a number of banker's drafts, funnelling even more money into the army.

Honest's army.

"Ah, yes indeed, Sire." Honest dabbed at his greasy mouth with a napkin, coughing to clear his throat. "The crimes of this Night Raid group are truly evil and terrible. But rest assured, the Military Police is on duty around the clock, every day of every week. You need not worry." Honest smiled warmly.

The young emperor was not convinced. His youthful face fell into a frown. "But I do worry, Minister… I feel like I should do something."

This sudden enthusiasm for action was a little worrying to Honest. He didn't want to have to replace this one, at least not yet. He had worked to hard to cultivate his fatherly image. "Oh, Sire, the care you show for your subjects truly is beyond compare! But you need not worry yourself at all, I—"

Makoto raised his hand, and the large man fell into an uneasy silence. "Minister," Makoto began as he rose from the enormous, throne-like chair and approached the window to look out over the capital. "I want to help. I cannot go out into the streets and bring these assassins to justice myself, but I believe I know people who can." Makoto turned away from the window, eyes burning with rare conviction.

Honest was glad for the privacy the Imperial office afforded them; he didn't want any of them seeing this scene. Even the slightest hint, the merest suggestion that he wasn't in control could be his undoing. "Oh?" He sunk his teeth into his turkey leg and swallowed the chunk whole. "And who would these people be, Your Highness?"

"I mean to call them." Makoto made to walk away from the breakfast table.

Honest did something he rarely did with food: he coughed violently and spat it out onto his plate, turning towards the Emperor in utter horror. "T- _them_? You don't mean—"

"Yes. My relatives in Mariejois, the Holy Land, far across the Eastern Sea."

The Prime Minister's amber eyes flashed in panic. He had foreseen many challenges to his rule, but he never thought that _this_ would happen. He cursed the boy's idealism, but more than that, he cursed his own foolishness. He should have anticipated this!

"Sire, surely you don't need to call upon the World Government! I mean, the Empire has long been one of its founding members, yes, but our country has always prided itself on its independence and autonomy! Surely there is no need to seek help, is there? You just need to have faith in your soldiers, your government, your adv—"

"The Military Police hasn't captured Night Raid yet," the Emperor interrupted him sharply, "and I fear that the rebellion might spread to other cities and towns. With the bulk of our military fighting the Revolution and the enemies beyond our borders, we are left with the Military Police who are scattered throughout the Empire, and the Imperial Guard here in the palace." He drew himself to his small, unimpressive height, and did his level best to stare Honest down."I understand keeping faith in the people, Minister, but a good ruler utilizes every resource available to him. That is what you taught me, no?"

Honest chuckled nervously, scratching at his cheek. Breadcrumbs tumbled to the floor. "Hehe… Well, yes indeed, I did! But Sire, some of your subjects… well, they may not take too kindly to another nation—"

"Must I order you, Minister, to help me make the call?"

The glare on his delicate face looked out of place. Honest forced himself to remain silent, to appear the dignified elder statesman, even as his mind ran in circles. Never had the emperor resisted him, not even in so mild and genteel a way as this. Had he misjudged this little emperor?

The fat Minister sighed in resignation, and gave his sweetest smile. "Very well, Your Majesty! Let's go make the call!" He faked a loud laugh, patting his belly. "Never let it be said that I didn't follow your wisdom, eh?"

The Emperor smiled. "I knew you could see reason, Minister! I must change my wardrobe. We must make a good impression on my relatives. I'll meet you outside my chambers!" He jogged away and out the door.

Honest sighed again as he reached for a glass goblet, filling it with wine. As he raised it to his lips, he was suddenly overcome with anger - he jumped to his feet and threw the goblet at the wall with a furious roar, smashing the glass and staining the carpet crimson.

 _'_ _Damn it all to hell!'_ He gripped the back of his chair tight in an attempt to bottle his anger, but he could feel the veins bulge in his face and on the back of his hands.

 _'_ _If the World Government were to establish their presence in the Empire, they would do their utmost to interfere in our business, all to make sure that we follow their laws! We'd be subjugated to their inspections, their military would be stationed here, and I wouldn't be able to control them or maneuver as freely anymore! And if my kickbacks were discovered...'_

He bit his nail, feeling sweat run down his round face as his mind ran through the worst scenarios. _'_ _I could be sent to the gallows…or worse, to their prison Impel Down…and the Revolution would only use the presence of a foreign power trying to take over the continent as a rallying cry to call even more of the populace to their side…'_

Honest breathed in deeply through his nose and readjusted his grey jacket, forcing his mind to work in the cool and calculating manner that had lifted him up to such lofty heights. He began to pace back and forth, thoughts shooting back and forth.

 _'_ _It really can't be helped… For all of my influence with the Emperor, it was inevitable he would one day exercise his authority. Damn it all.'_

The prime minister growled as he grabbed his unfinished turkey leg, tore the meat off in one violent gnash of teeth, and stomped from the dining room, slamming the door behind him.

"Glass half full, Honest," he muttered to himself, almost admonishingly. "The glass is always half full…" He stalked along the corridor, hands in his pockets, trying to think of a way around the situation.

 _'_ _I must try to use them,'_ he thought. _'_ _I must find a way to profit from this. But how?'_

His thoughts turned to the Empire, to the vast administration that ran it, and those creatures of his who populated its most important positions. For the vast majority of its subjects, the Empire was only ever an idea. They didn't see the emperor—they saw his magistrates, his tax collectors, his soldiers, his policemen. They judged the empire solely on its ability to solve their problems.

And it was failing them.

If he really were an honest man - an amusing notion - he would have removed the incompetent and the cruel from the administration, replacing them with the honourable and the capable. But this he dared not do, for to do so would be to sign his own death warrant. If he promoted the honourable, they would see him and his allies for what they were, and work to destroy both. If he favoured the capable, their ambitions would grow with every promotion, until only his job remained to be taken.

So he favoured his 'friends', those beasts who tormented the empire even as they sucked it dry. He knew all their dirty secrets, their nasty little peccadilloes. There was the regional governor who put lit matches under the toes of her serving girls, watching them kick and scream while nursing her son. There was that family in the capital who would lure unfortunates into their home with food and kind words, then slowly torture them to death. He tolerated their excesses, because he could rely on them to obey his every command. They knew what would happen to them if they didn't.

But now this was happening. The World Government's armies would come, with all its agents and officials. They would see, they would hear, they would tell, and worst of all, they would act.

 _'_ _This will require careful handling,'_ he thought grimly. At the very least, he had to ensure that none of it could be traced back to him. If his hands were clean, it didn't matter how many of them got caught. As for finding reliable replacements, he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

He took a deep breath as he stepped up the double doors of his ruler's chambers, as if in preparation for a great task. The Imperial Guards stationed there—Budou's loyal hounds, no doubt—eyed him coldly. He only smiled.

The doors swung open. The Imperial chambers were sizable, but it did not take Honest long to find the boy emperor. He was standing before a set of tall mirrors, while a couple of maids and an effeminate-looking courtier arranged a set of suitably regal robes on his small body. He had a scepter in his right hand.

"Ah, Minister!" he called out, noticing him. "The communication room is within the royal chambers."

"Of course, of course…" Honest waited, his nervousness growing with every passing second, until the servants finished fussing over their young emperor. As the three withdrew, Makoto led the way towards the bathroom.

The bathroom. Of all places!

The Emperor stood on tiptoes and pressed his hand against a certain tile of polished porcelain. With a clunk the wall sank into the floor, revealing a hidden passage. Honest blinked, and made a note to pay someone to find out more about the architecture of the Imperial Palace. Secrets like these were dangerous, especially if they were kept from him.

"This way." Honest followed his ruler, the low ceiling forcing him to stoop. Fortunately it did not take them long to reach their destination; a dust-choked, stale-aired, wood-panelled room. At the center of the far wall was a blank, rectangular screen, and to the screen's side was a most peculiar creature. It was a yellow snail of sorts, larger than any shelled creature Honest had ever seen, with mechanical dials, knobs, and cables attached to the shell.

Honest always feet unnerved by Transponder Snails. They always seemed creepy, especially their human-looking lips and eyes. But Honest knew well enough that he had no choice but to get over his queasiness, though his stomach still lurched when the wizened snail slowly opened its eyes to peer blankly at the two of them. Makoto went up and clicked a button on the stoic snail's shell and, after wiping the couch free of its dusty coating, claimed a seat. As the obese Minister sat next to him, the snail's shell rattled and shook, and the screen flickered to life.

The screen blurred with black and white and a scratching noise could be heard from the Snail's mouth as it became active. Colour bled in, and the picture began to move.

It was an old, bald man with round glasses perched on his nose, wearing one of those white training uniforms the martial artists at the temple were so fond of. His face was stern and hard, and his eyes cut as sharp as honed daggers. And yet, they weren't nearly as sharp as the curved sword he held across his lap.

Honest took a deep breath to calm himself. He had heard legends of the fear the Five Elder Stars could strike into the hearts of men with their presence alone, but he had dismissed them as just that—legends. He had not imagined it being anything like this; the man in the screen seemed to be staring into his very soul rather than at him.

Makoto didn't seem to mind; he smiled. "Uncle! It has been so long!"

"Hmmm? Oh." The bald man noticed the boy emperor, and his eyes narrowed, and as his lips and eyes moved, so did the Snail, mimicking the man on the other end of the line. "Emperor Makoto. I first thought this was a trick of some kind, but it really does appear to be you." His face and tone were expressionless. "You've grown."

"I have, Uncle! I would love to catch up with you, but I am in dire need of your help. You see, my empire is in trouble. A lot of trouble."

Honest swallowed again as Makoto spoke, and he saw the look in the old man's eyes change from sharp to borderline predatory, like a tiger eyeing its prey.

"Oh? Do go on, child. Whatever is ailing you, my nephew, rest assured that we of the Five Elder Stars will do everything in our power to ensure the safety and wellbeing of our family. And you are a part of that family, for our blood has been one for over a thousand years." The boy emperor blushed faintly at the obvious flattery, and Honest fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Now, what is wrong with your Empire, nephew? Tell me of it, and don't leave anything out."

Makoto explained the Empire's misery in detail, repeating the reports Honest had given him word for word. Honest began to wish he hadn't doctored them quite so... _liberally_ in order to get the emperor to agree to some of his necessary measures. It could very well come back to haunt him, and soon.

"So that is why I call upon the Marines and Navy of the World Government to answer my call to uphold peace and justice within my Empire. If they can assist us in keeping the peace, our armies can make short work of the Revolutionary Army rebelling against our government," Makoto finished with absolute certainty in his voice.

The Elder's eyebrows rose at the mention of a 'Revolutionary Army'. "Did you say… I see… Well, nephew, I will consult with your other uncles and great-uncles on this matter. Rest assured, before long help will be on the way." His fingers tapped the handle of his sword thoughtfully. "Call me again tomorrow, nephew, and I will have an answer for you. I hope this satisfies you."

"It does, Uncle! Thank you very much!"

"Think nothing of it, child. I am merely doing my duty. Goodbye for now."

The screen flickered and died, and the boy emperor turned to face Honest with a bright smile on his face. "Did you hear, Minister? My family is sending help!"

Honest could just glimpse the slow, ponderous inevitability of it all. Now the World Government would come calling for sure, and nothing would be the same. He was going to have to be careful from now on, more careful than he had ever been.

Then again, so long as he was able to conceal any connections to...certain people, he might actually be able to profit from this.

Honest smiled back, his mind already running a hundred miles a minute with plots and plans. "Oh, Your Majesty, I can hardly wait."

* * *

 _Feel free to give feedback! Time to get the story on a roll!_


	3. Chapter 2- Kill the Revolution

Akame ga Kill belongs to Tetsuya Tashiro and Takahiro while One Piece is owned by Eichiro Oda.

* * *

"Commander, I hope you have a good reason for calling us out here at a time like this," the Fleet Admiral growled. He took a deep drag on his cigar. "I have my hands full coordinating fleet movements across the entire known world; Blackbeard is running amok in the New World; we've got pirates sprouting up across all the Four Blues like weeds after rain, and my entire division has been busy relocating our headquarters to the New World.

"So," he continued, breathing out a thick plume of smoke, scowling from underneath the brim of his cap at his two superiors, current and former, "I would appreciate it if we kept this brief."

"Don't worry so much, Akainu," Sengoku said, his dark eyes meeting those of the commander of the world's largest armed force. He took his seat in the briefing room opposite his former subordinate. "This is a very important matter that needs discussion. It will take as long as it needs to."

"Gentlemen, I know you have had your disagreements," Kong intervened, shooting them both stern looks of disapproval. "But we have better things to do."

"Now there's something I'd dearly like to know. Why are you two here?" Sakazuki rumbled, dark eyes flickering between his two superiors. "Normally, the two of you would either be off in Mariejois, taking orders from the Five Elder Stars and hobnobbing with the World Nobles, or inspecting the bases and ships of my Marines. It's damn rare for the two of you to make the trip to our new headquarters, especially considering it's now out here in the New World."

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "We have just as much a right to be here as you, Fleet Admiral. Why would the two of us being here be considered so unusual?"

The Fleet Admiral closed his eyes and breathed out deeply through his nose. "…The timing doesn't quite fit," Sakazuki answered after a moment, opening his eyes again. "We have rebellions and protests flaring up all across the nations of the World Government because of recent events, an ever-growing numbers of pirates demanding our attention across all of the Four Seas, and we are still trying to keep a leash on our newest privateers. Commander, your attention would logically be focused on intelligence activities and hunting down Dragon's stooges in our various government agencies, and our Chief Inspector should be keeping an eye on Buggy and Law—those two men are too dangerous to be kept unsupervised for too long."

"What's your point, Akainu?" Sengoku interrupted, crossing his arms.

"It doesn't fit," the Fleet Admiral repeated, crossing his arms as well and frowning. "Something big came up, didn't it? Something important enough that it needs the three heads of our military to meet immediately, with little to no warning?"

Kong chuckled. "Told ya he'd be a good fit for the job," he declared to Sengoku.

"I never said he _wouldn't_ be a good fit, sir," the Buddha retorted, rolling his eyes. "I just thought Kuzan would be an even better fit."

Akainu grimaced, biting down on his cigar. "Can we not talk about the Blue Pheasant, please? That matter's over and done with."

"True enough," Kong agreed. "No need to re-open old wounds."

The postures of both admirals relaxed slightly, and the three men seated themselves more comfortably in a triangle. Sengoku adjusted his glasses. Sakazuki spat out the rest of his cigar, reached into his pocket for a new one, and lit it with the touch of a fingertip. Kong looked them both over with his arms crossed, and a silence fell—not tense, but not quite comfortable, either.

Someone else coughed, and Sakazuki's head snapped at the newcomer standing sheepishly at the door. "Haven't you learned how to knock, man?" he rumbled, shaking his head as he breathed out cigar smoke smelling suspiciously like sulphur. "What in blazes do you want now, Commodore? This is a very important meeting!"

"Well, er, sir," Brannew stammered, doing his very best to ignore the smoke making his eyes water as he stood rigidly at parade rest before the highest-ranking Marine in the entire world. "I was just here to inform you that Admiral Kizaru and Vice-Admiral Tsuru have arrived from their respective posts of duty, and that they are on their way to the briefing room. Er, sir."

Sakazuki stilled, newly lit cigar raised halfway to his mouth. "Strange. I didn't order them to report to HQ."

"I did," Kong threw in.

"May I ask why, sir? This is _highly_ unusual."

"You'll find out soon enough."

Sakazuki scowled but settled down anyway, the only sign of his displeasure the rising temperature of the room's air.

"Good day, gentleme~n," a voice drawled. "Is that seat still free~?"

No one flinched, but the newcomer found himself the target of three intense stares, their owners' expressions by turns annoyed, indifferent, and surprised.

"Kizaru," Sakazuki muttered. "How'd the hell did you get in here?"

Borsalino gave him a puzzled look. "…I believe I used the door." Then the admiral frowned in deep thought. "Well, at least I think I did. It must have been the door. Or perhaps it was the windo~w…?" Borsalino shrugged. "Eh, what does it really matter? I'm here as requested."

"Welcome, Admiral Kizaru," Kong said loudly, quelling any further discussion. "I'm glad you managed to come here as soon as you could."

Borsalino bowed deeply. "Commander Kong~. You are quite lucky, you know—I nearly missed your letter." He laughed quietly, scratching his unshaven cheek sheepishly. "Captain Sentoumarou reminded me to come at once after he'd realized the importance of your missive. Ooh, I've rarely seen him so furious with me~."

"I suppose I will have to thank the good captain, then," Kong said drily. "Sit, Admiral. We have a lot to discuss."

"With pleasure, with pleasure…"

Borsalino plopped himself on the floor, looking around at the grim looks of the admirals around him. "I don't know about you gentlemen," he declared languidly and smiling pleasantly, "but I think I could do with a bite to eat. Some alcohol would be nice, too~."

"And you won't be drinking anything while I'm still breathing, Admiral Borsalino," a reedy voice called out from the door. "Last time you got drunk, we had to refloat at least three ships you sank."

Vice-Admiral Tsuru marched into the room, overcoat hanging loosely from her shoulders, and fixing the admiral with an amused look.

And even though he could probably squash her like a bug under his boot, the man couldn't help but wince. "Ah, Vice-Admiral, that was only once—"

"Once was quite enough," Tsuru declared, kneeling next to him and tapping her fingers on her knees. "Believe me, it was only your dumb luck that nobody drowned or was hurt. You're not making me sit through the paperwork for that sort of nonsense again. The old ticker won't take the stress, I swear."

"But—"

"Am I somehow not making myself clear? _Sir?_ " she added, lacing an inordinate amount of malice into the single word.

Borsalino slumped where he sat, nodding dejectedly. "No alcohol for me, I suppose."

"This wouldn't be a problem if you could hold your liquor, you know," Tsuru said under her breath before nodding sharply at the other assembled admirals. "Sirs. Isshō is on his way."

"Goddamnit, sir," Sakazuki complained. "Did you invite all of the Admirals to HQ? Without even telling me?"

"Apparently," Kong retorted, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Sakazuki opened his mouth—whether to argue or complain, no-one could tell—but he closed it quickly after a moment's thought, his teeth clicking, and he returned to chewing noisily on his cigar and generally being unsociable.

"Ah… It seems I am late. My apologies."

The tap of a cane on wooden floors had long announced him long before his entrance into the conference room, but his steps were as silent as a ghost's. Admiral Fujitora calmly approached the other admirals, bowing deeply. "Greetings, gentlemen. May I have a seat? The journey was quite long."

"Sit down already, Isshō," Tsuru groused, jabbing a finger at the seat next to her. "There's no need to keep up appearances here. Formality's overrated, in any case."

A smile flickered across the blind man's face, and he sat himself down slowly. "Thank you, Vice-Admiral." He set his cane across his knees and tilted his head, addressing the room at large. "May I trouble you for some tea, please?"

"Tea sounds like a wonderful idea," Borsalino spoke up, glancing at Tsuru with a smile. "You know, since I've apparently been forbidden from drinking anything vaguely alcoholi~c."

"If we still have to wait for Ryokugyu, I think tea would be most appreciated," Sengoku agreed.

The admirals all turned to stare at Sakazuki, who huffed and rolled his eyes. "BRANNEW!"

The man appeared as if teleported. "Yessir?"

"Get us some tea! And tell me when Admiral Ryokugyu finally arrives! I want this talk over and done with. You know," he muttered, "so I can get back to my job."

"Commander-in-Chief, Admirals, Ma'am!" Brannew called out as he returned into the room at full sprint, precariously balancing a tablet of steaming tea cups without spilling a single drop. "Admiral Ryogokyu sends her regards, but she says she cannot take the time to come all the way to HQ!"

"What could possibly get her to ignore a summons by her highest superior?" Kong asked mildly, though his eyebrows had narrowed in a dangerous frown.

"She says she is close to tracking down the Emperor Blackbeard, and that any delay would only allow him to escape!" Brannew quickly handed out teacups and took great care to add two large spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of milk to Kong's cup. "My apologies, sir!"

Kong grunted in acknowledgement, picking up his cup and tasting it. "…Fine. Get the good doctor hooked up to us, why don't you? We have wasted too much time on pointless pleasantries already, I think."

"Yessir!" Brannee rapidly exited the room, seemingly relieved to escape the dangerous atmosphere.

"You know," Kong said casually, still sipping his tea, "Commodore Brannew is a very good administrator. In fact, the man has been organizing dispatches to the various branches and fleets all across the world for years now. Don't you think he's due for a promotion, Fleet Admiral?"

Sakazuki grunted, slightly mollified by his equally excellent tea. "Can't promote him. The moment I do, I'll have to give him a fleet to command somewhere. And if I do that, he'll have to leave HQ. And then I'll have to deal with the damn paperwork by myself, which I don't have the damn patience for."

Borsalino chuckled. "This is the first time I've heard someone _not_ bring promoted because they are entirely too good at their chosen profession. Oh~, that is indeed quite strang~e!"

"Deal with it, Kizaru. We live in strange times. Dangerous ones, too." Sakazuki looked up to see Brannew and a group of Marines carry in a very large Transponder Snail into the conference room. The commodore fussed with the dials and knobs for a while, the snail's eyes and mouth twitching erratically, before giving the animal's carapace a furious kick. The snail squawked static in protest, before an angry voice coalesced from the noise.

 _"—_ _o, no, I should try another alloy! Copper and gold combined, perhaps? No, that won't work. I need something that conducts electricity even better than these two! I could try silver alone, I suppose, but that's not conducive enough. Darn! Will I need to discover yet another new element or alloy just to make this blasted thing work!? Outrageous, I say! This will be—"_

"Doctor Vegapunk?" Kong addressed the snail, whose eyes snapped into focus to glare at him.

 _"_ _Yes, yes, hello, who's there? Oh, blast, you again. Say your piece, I don't have all day!"_

"The strategy meeting, Doctor Vegapunk?" Kong said mildly.

 _"_ _What strategy meet—What do you mean, it's in my calendar?!"_ the snail bellowed, its eyes turning to address someone not in the room. _"_ _I need to work on the electr—What, for two weeks now?! Pshaw, fine!"_ The snail fixed Kong with a sigh and an annoyed glare. _"_ _Fair warning, Commander—if this takes longer than twenty minutes, I'm leaving. I have better things to do than argue with you dullards."_

"Duly noted," Kong said dryly as he shot a warning glance at Sakazuki, who had clenched his fists and breathed out a plume of sulphurous smoke. "Gentlemen, and lady." He nodded to Tsuru. "Now that we are all assembled, we can finally come to the subject of our meeting. We have received new orders."

Total silence fell, and no questions were asked. It was unnecessary. The only ones who could give the Commander-in-Chief orders would not—and _could_ not—be defied by anyone in this room, no matter how powerful they were.

Sakazuki sighed. "What do the Five Elder Stars command, then?"

"They have invoked the Right of the Call," Sengoku said bluntly. "The Empire calls for aid."

Sakazuki blinked in surprise. "They want an Admiral to come to their aid? _That's_ why we're here?!" He scowled again, this time in disgust. "Why does this need all of _us_ to meet?"

"Sengoku's leaving out some rather important details," Kong threw in. "Tell me, gentlemen, has anyone of you heard of the Empire?"

"It's in the New World," Tsuru said immediately. "A large landmass with scattered World Government Navy possessions, reached through the Grand Line after several months of travel, and spanning one insular continent, several outcropping peninsulas, and neighbouring archipelagos across both the North and West Blues."

"One of the twenty founding countries of our very own World Government, isn't it~?" Borsalino added, sipping his tea. "As far as I know, the 'Empire' is governed by… well, an Emperor. He rules absolutely there, and he is one of our allies and a World Noble~."

Isshō hummed thoughtfully, his gravelly voice almost turning it into a growl his voice, tapping his cane thoughtfully. "…But the Empire has traditionally been very isolated, no? They belong to our global government, true, but trade has been difficult due to the dangerous travels in the Grand Line, and it has been decades since they have rendered us military or economic assistance. They seem quite happy to be left to their own affairs."

"Well, things have been changing for all of us," Kong said wearily. "And as far away as they may be, they are not as isolated as they once were."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sakazuki grunted.

"Refugees," Kong said succinctly. "All hell's broken loose with Edward Newgate dying at Marineford. The entire New World is in shambles with the Four Emperors infighting and rearranging their territories with what's left of Whitebeard's possessions. The Empire is one of the few independent and safe territories in that half of the world, and people too weak to tangle with pirate crews on their own are flocking to it in the millions."

"Ah," Isshō hummed, sipping his tea. "Flows of refugees, a millennia-old central government, probably quite set in its ways… They are off-balance, uncertain."

"Quite right," Sengoku agreed. "And apparently, this disruption has called up a revolutionary movement that is too much for the Empire's military to handle on its own."

Borsalino's eyebrows rose. "Oho~," he drawled. "Revolutionaries, huh~? Any connection to our old friend Dragon~?"

"That man's no friend of ours, Kizaru," Sakazuki grunted. "And I'd bet you my left buttock there is. That man's stooges and spies are damn near _everywhere_."

"The Five Elder Stars think there may be," Kong said decisively. "And there ends our discussion on the matter. Now, the Emperor is a World Noble, and he's asked for the World Government's aid in quelling this insurrection and securing his borders from external threats. Our leaders have seen fit to oblige him."

"Oh, come on," the Fleet Admiral groaned, letting his face fall into his palm. "Don't tell me I need to put together yet _another_ fleet. My forces are spread thin enough as it is!"

"This is an order straight from the very top, Sakazuki," Kong told him, scowling. "And you will have to do even more than just that. Specifically, you will put together a fleet, and you'll order an Admiral to sail it to the Empire."

Sakazuki splayed his fingers across his face, staring at Kong in bemusement through the gaps between his fingers. "With all due respect, sir: you've got to be kidding me."

"I don't joke, Fleet Admiral," the Commander-in-Chief said drily, crossing his arms.

"Well, I ain't exactly inclined to humour either, sir," Sakazuki replied, casually uttering the understatement of the century. "I can't spare any of the Admirals."

Borsalino raised his hand. "Umm, I could go—"

"You'll stay right in Paradise where I told you to stay, Kizaru!" Sakazuki declared, glaring at him. "It's bad enough I got new pirates sprouting up in previously pacified regions all over the four corners of the map, but I'll be damned if I have my fastest asset off in some Gods-forsaken rat's nest on the other end of the world fighting shadows. No, you'll stay in Paradise and keep putting the fear of the Marines into anyone dumb enough to sail the East and South Blues under the Jolly Roger!"

"Faaaaair enough, boss~," Borsalino singsonged, waving him off with a smile. "Just a thought."

"What about Ryokugyu?" Sengoku asked sharply. "Is she available?"

"Apparently in the New World, hunting Blackbeard," Tsuru muttered, sipping her tea. "Frankly, sirs, recalling her for another assignment seems like a bad idea. She's doing good work, and her return would just divert time and resources pointlessly."

"And the Fleet Admiral has to stay at HQ for security reasons," Sakazuki concluded with a tone of finality. "So that's that."

"…I feel like I should be slighted," Isshō murmured, his tone more amused than anything else. He lifted his cup of tea to his nose, breathing in the hot scent with closed eyes. "After all, I am an Admiral too, no?"

"That _could_ work," Sengoku pronounced, eyeing the blind officer thoughtfully.

Sakazuki looked into the circle of assembled admirals, and scowled. "Oh, no. We're not seriously considering this, are we?"

"Why shouldn't we, Fleet Admiral?" Kong asked sharply. "Admiral Fujitora seems to be free of any serious responsibility right now. And like the man said, he is an Admiral."

"He is certainly the most inexperienced of us all, yes!" Sakazuki fired back incredulously.

"You were the one who conscripted me into this rank, sir," Isshō reminded him with a cheerful smile. "Because of my combat skills and Devil Fruit power, if I recall correctly. As for my other deficiencies, well…" The admiral carefully held out his cup to Tsuru, who refilled it. "I have found ways to work around some of them, and I have absolute faith in my subordinates to support me."

"So you'd be willing and prepared to travel the Grand Line and the New World to support the Empire?" Sengoku asked.

"Of course!" Isshō declared jovially. "Well, under one condition."

"Name it."

"Like I said, my subordinates make up for my… handicaps. I would like to choose the officers working under my command."

Sakazuki blinked. "Mind if I ask why, Fujitora?"

"We all want this mission to be a success, sir," Isshō countered mildly and smiling politely. "The chance of that will be greater if you grant me a little… leeway in the way I execute my orders."

"Granted," Kong said immediately. "Within reason. Who do you want?"

"Vice Admiral Smoker and his Seventeenth Fleet," Isshō said promptly. "And Vice Admiral Maynard of the Sixth Mobile Expeditionary Force."

"Strange choices," Tsuru murmured, the crow's feet around her eyes crinkling as she frowned in thought. "Smoker's always been a rebel. He's defied authority often enough that it's driven most of his superiors to fits of rage."

"The man has principles," Isshō said plainly. "And a habit of working independently, mostly on his own initiative. A rare talent in these troubled days. I trust his judgment, however. He has made the right calls when need be, as seen in Alabasta and other duty stations he has been posted."

Sakazuki grunted unhappily. "I'll admit that's exactly why I don't like him all that much. But if you think you can handle that maverick, he's all yours. Keeps him out of my hair, too."

"Maynard the Pursuer is as tough as they come," Sengoku spoke up. "But he's a crafty old devil dog, and there's no one better when it comes to coastal combat, littoral fleet manoeuvres, and amphibious operations. Taking him along to a large landmass largely unknown to us is a smart move. I approve."

"Who else would you suggest?"

"Vice Admiral Bastille," Sakazuki said suddenly, fixing the assembled admirals with a flinty eye. "If we're sending a fleet to the Empire, then I want a permanent Navy presence established there. Bastille can oversee the construction of a new Marine base within Capital Bay. It'll be a good forward base for our operations in the New World, and it might remind that little Emperor that the World Government shouldn't be ignored."

"We're sending the Architect away?" Tsuru said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. "I like it. Good choice, sir. Let's hope we can rebuild Marineford without him, though…"

"Someone else will accompany you, Fujitora," Sakazuki continued. "Vice Admiral Onigumo will join your fleet for this expedition."

Isshō's fingers clenched around his teacup, and he exhaled slowly. "…The commander of the Third Buster Fleet? May I ask why you would consider that necessary, sir?"

"Simple. I want you to have enough firepower to reduce that damn Empire's capital to _ash_ if need be."

"Sir, with all due respect, this is meant to be a _diplomatic_ mission," Isshō argued back calmly, heat creeping into his voice as his eyebrows furrowed deeper. "Sending the Spider on an assignment of this magnitude—"

"I'll brook no argument on this," Sakazuki said with crushing finality, frowning at his Admiral. "Vice Admiral Onigumo has always been a devout follower of Absolute Justice, and he'll be there to make sure that it is enforced to the fullest should the Empire neglect to conform to our laws and treaties—or if is too much of a bother to deal with. And even though it has ignored us for centuries, the Empire is part of the World Government and subject to our laws, whether they like it or not."

"From a diplomatic standpoint, sir—"

"Power and violence delivered by cannonfire can be powerful diplomacy, Admiral. More so than words and agreements delivered by the pen." Sakazuki took a long drag on his cigar, exhaling a large cloud of dark smoke. His eyes were flinty, and his voice eerily calm. "Razing a few cities to the ground should remind them of that, if need be. And if you don't have the guts to do what's necessary—then I suggest you tear off your insignia and uniform, and leave."

Isshō's fingers clenched his teacup so hard that his knuckles whitened and the porcelain creaked faintly, his pale eyes boring a hole into those of the Fleet Admiral, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "…Determination is not measured in corpses and ruins. It doesn't have to be. Sir."

"Our job is to make corpses of our enemies, ruins of their dreams, and to strike fear into all hearts so that they will not walk down the path of evil," Sakazuki said darkly, scowling again. "The sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be. For all of us."

"Which will only gain us the hatred of loyal, innocent citizens, driving them into the arms of people like Dragon!" Isshō retorted furiously. "Like Ohar—"

Two flat hands slammed onto the conference, rattling the teacups.

"Enough!" Kong snapped, a warning tone creeping into his voice, hand still on the table. He glared at them all. Mentioning the island was forbidden for a _very_ good reason.

"I won't have you two bicker about who to send like spoiled children fighting over a toy. However, despite my... disagreement with Fleet Admiral Sakazuki, we will indeed need a man capable of leading a Buster Call as a last resort for an expedition of this importance. I would have personally sent Momonga or Strawberry, but only Onigumo is free of responsibility as of this moment. Therefore he will go."

Nobody saw Sakazuki's face twitch, but a certain sense of smug victory emanated from him.

"But he will be under _Isshō's_ direct supervision," Kong continued continued sternly, "and only Isshō will employ a Buster Call." He gave Sakazuki a stern glare. "If Onigumo starts firing those cannons of his without a direct order, his head will roll. Inform him clearly of that fact, Fleet Admiral."

Sakazuki scowled, but nodded. "Yes, sir. Crystal clear."

The Commander-in-Chief turned to sternly address the Wisteria Tiger. "Isshō, you'll have three good men who have worked with you in the past. Make it work, and don't complain."

The blind man let out a small sigh, bowing his head. "Yes, sir."

"The boss's got a pretty good point, though," Borsalino sing-songed, smiling at them all as he rested his chin on his hand. "But a Buster Call can only be initiated by Five Vice Admira~als on the authority of an Admira~al~, and no one else after that whole Enies Lobby episo~de. So who should go as our lucky number five, hu~uh?"

The group sighed and muttered unhappily under their breath at the mention of Enies Lobby. If the former Admiral Aokiji had any blunders on his esteemed service record, it was giving the disgraced intelligence agent and Chief Director of the now defunct Cipher Pol 9, Spandam, the Golden Transponder Snail—resulting in the destruction of one of their three main bases in the Grand Line outside the New World. Naturally, the outside world had been hoodwinked into believing that it was all the work of the Straw Hat Pirates and their allies, but they knew the real story.

Kong had immediately made it clear to the Admirals that no one would ever allowed to have temporary authority to order a Buster Call, furious that such an oversight had been allowed. Only the Admirals, Fleet Admiral, or Commander-in-Chief could wield such power—any other perversion of this tool would not be tolerated again.

"Do you have anyone in mind, Kizaru?" Kong asked gruffly.

"Oooooh, I dunno~," Borsalino mumbled, his drawl slurring his words as he continued to mutter under his breath. "Perhaps… Oh, I have it! Mr. Beard!"

Kong quirked an eyebrow, baffled. "...Who the hell is that?"

Borsalino snapped his fingers in agitation. "You know, the vice admiral that always has food stuck in his beard? Such an absent-minded fellow! I don't know how he goes through life, I really do~on't…"

Sengoku slapped his forehead and groaned. "Vergo. He's talking about Vice Admiral Vergo, gentlemen."

"…He commands the Twenty-Third Reconnaissance Flotilla, no?" Tsuru asked, pursing her lips. "Hmph. He certainly has the smarts to be diplomatic. His morals are another matter entirely, unfortunately…"

"His intelligence reports have always been on-point and useful, Rear Admiral," Sakazuki said sharply. "His information has allowed us to destroy countless pirate fleets and revolutionary cells, not to mention all the criminal networks he's smashed on his lonesome. If he's smart enough to weasel out smugglers, pirates, and traitors, he's smart enough for this job."

Tsuru inclined her head, conceding the point but frowning.

 _"_ _So, you've decided all sort of irrelevant and, quite frankly, boring things,"_ a distorted voice threw in. Everybody turned to face the Transponder Snail, whose lip was curled in bored disdain. _"_ _Congratulations. Twenty minutes, Commander; I told you! You now have two minutes and thirty-seven seconds left. Why do I have to be here?"_

"After consulting with the Inspector General," Kong began, ignoring Sakazuki's deepening scowl, "I decided that it would be best to send along Pacifistas on this mission. They are large, powerful, and are far more useful on land than at sea. We'll be fielding a small expeditionary force against possibly far larger armies; they'll need the mobile firepower as a force multiplier. Would you consider handing over a few to Admiral Fujitora's command?"

 _"_ _Absolutely not."_

"…May I ask why you are refusing, Doctor?"

 _"_ _Because the new line of Pacifistas has not yet finished testing, and the old models have too many weaknesses and require too much maintenance to be simply sent to the other side of the world at short notice. And I'll not have a foolish devil dog smash any of my creations pointlessly to pieces. Any other silly questions, or can I get back to my work?"_

Kong's eyebrow twitched, but Sengoku raised a hand. "Doctor, is there anything that might be of interest for your research in the Empire?"

The snail turned its eyes to look at him with no understanding, but its lips curled into a begrudgingly admiring smirk a moment later. _"_ _Clever man. You've heard of the Imperial Relics before, haven't you?"_

"I know many things, Doctor. Being a former Fleet Admiral does have its advantages."

"Would you care to enlighten those who do not share your exalted knowledge, Doctor?" Isshō asked politely.

 _"_ _They're weapons, plain and simple,"_ Doctor Vegapunk said bluntly. _"_ _Powerful, ancient ones, many of them created millennia ago."_ The smirk on the snail's face grew mirthless. _"_ _And some of them are rumoured to have enough power to wipe out entire armies. Or have the same effect as Devil Fruits without the curse from the sea."_

Sakazuki cursed under his breath. "And Dragon's Revolutionaries are making a move on the Empire, huh?" He turned to address Doctor Vegapunk directly. "I want those Relics secured for the World Government—or at the very least destroyed so that Dragon and his scum can't make use of them."

The snail rolled its eyes and let a snarl of frustration. _"_ _See, this is why I hate dealing with soldiers. No sense of restraint. Or any appreciation for science beyond its ability to blow things up. Barbarians, the lot of you!"_

"Doctor?" Sengoku interrupted him politely.

 _"_ _Fine, fine; you'll get your Pacifistas. Not many of them, unfortunately, and it'll be difficult to resupply you over there, but they'll put the fear of God into the natives well enough."_ The snail turned to address Isshō. _"_ _I want Imperials Relics, Admiral, or anything else remotely connected to them—remains, historical accounts, photos, blueprints, I don't care. Anything you can get your hands on. And no matter what Fleet Admiral Hothead over there tells you, I swear that I will make your life a living hell if I catch you destroying one on purpose. Are we clear?"_

Isshō nodded, smiling. "Of course, Doctor. I am interested in these weapons as well. They might tell us more about their place of origin. And if you desire, you can send that man of yours—Science Captain Sentoumaru, correct?—with us to be your eyes and ears. He will inspect any of the Relics we come across and safeguard them for your later research. I hope that is sufficient?"

 _"_ _Works for me, I suppose. You should take notes, Admiral Hothead, this man actually has a thing called_ decorum _. Now, you got what you wanted, I'll hopefully get what I want soon, and your twenty minutes are up. Goodbye!"_

The call was disconnected, the snail's eyes falling shut immediately with a loud 'clank'. Sakazuki's glare at the snail could have curdled milk.

"…What a colourful man," Isshō chuckled, sipping his tea. "Life with him must be very interesting indeed."

"Another reason why Fujitora is the perfect man for the job," Sengoku muttered to Kong, amused. "He actually knows how to be diplomatic, and how to negotiate compromises." He gave Sakazuki an annoyed look. "Unlike some people."

Kong sighed. "Be polite, Sengoku."

"Are we done here?" Sakazuki interrupted the exchange, scowling. "Because I have better things to do."

"Nearly." Kong drew himself up to his full height, and even sitting, his presence towered over everyone else as he addressed Isshō. "You heard everything, Admiral. You are to sail an expeditionary fleet to sail into the New World to meet up with the government of the Empire. You are to support the Emperor in any way to preserve order in his lands, as he has commanded an Admiral's presence to assist him. These are your official duties."

"Unofficially," Sakazuki continued, throwing a sour look at Kong and Sengoku, "you'll have a bit more to do. We got Revolutionaries running around over there, threatening the World Government. I want them dead, Fujitora."

Sengoku crossed his arms, nodding gravely. "The Empire is our largest ally in the New World, and it is rich in resources and people. We'll need it to establish our presence there for our wars against the growing pirate threat and the Four Emperors. It _cannot_ fall to any other influence other than our own, Admiral. If it does, we will lose even more of the confidence the people have placed in us, and our enemies might gain resources they can use against the World Government. We can't cover up our blunders forever, either."

"You have enough ships and the necessary command structure for a Buster Call," Sakazuki added as he rose to his feet. "If you have to, I damn well expect you to use it."

The Fleet Admiral took a long, last drag of his cigar before dropping the stub to the floor, crushing it under his boot. "Better for them to be burned to ashes than helping our enemies. Now, I have work to do. Good day, gentlemen. Tsuru."

He marched out of the room, a curt nod to Kong and Sengoku his only goodbye. The others stayed a bit longer, exchanging platitudes and finishing their tea, but soon enough Isshō made a polite excuse and left the room, followed on his heels by Tsuru.

They walked towards the docks in silence for a while, until the old rear admiral glanced at him shrewdly. "Any second thoughts?"

Isshō chuckled ruefully. "Oh, far too many of them. This is my first major independent command, after all. I've already imagined far too many ways how this could go wrong."

"You'll do fine, Isshō," Tsuru said, reaching up to punch his shoulder with a veined fist. The Admiral stumbled and caught himself, turning his head towards her with an aggrieved look on his scarred face. She was smirking, even if he couldn't see it. "This is a job where you'll need brains and tact, and you got enough to spare of both. Believe me, it wasn't your devil fruit that got you this rank, no matter what Sakazuki keeps telling you."

"…Thank you, old friend." He reached out, enveloping the old woman in a clumsy, one-armed hug. "You should visit again. My grandchildren miss their favourite aunt."

"Liar," Tsuru said, patting his cheek fondly. "They miss the sweets I bring them. They don't care about some old woman like me."

Isshō laughed, but then his face grew sombre. "You won't leave HQ, will you?"

Tsuru shook her head. "They need me here, and I'm just too _old_ to fight." She sighed. "There's a new age coming, Isshō. I can feel it in the wind."

"A storm gathering, do you think?"

"No idea. Could be coming from the West. Could be a storm, could be just a breeze. Could also be a hurricane, though." Her face was grim as she stopped at a window, looking out over the many ships anchored in HQ. She shrugged. "…Depends entirely on who starts stepping on butterflies."

"Not exactly an inspiring forecast, O Master Strategist."

"It's the most accurate I can do so far." Tsuru turned to face the Admiral looming over her. "I could have _retired_ next year, Isshō. I've done enough for my country, paid enough blood and sweat. But Marineford changed everything." She gripped the windowsill, steadying herself. "And I have a feeling this was only the beginning."

"…Any advice for an old friend, then?"

"Do your job, do it well, and trust your instincts."

A smile flickered around Isshō's mouth. "Doesn't sound very specific."

"When you have nothing else to go on, trust your gut. That piece of advice has helped me more times than I can count." The old woman snapped to attention, saluting sharply. "Godspeed, Admiral."

Isshō returned it just as crisply, but he was smiling fondly. "Thank you, Rear Admiral. We shall meet again."

Tsuru watched him leave, his clicking cane creating him a path through the crowded corridors of HQ, and she turned around to look over the harbour again.

Dozens of ships were anchored here, from small patrolling corvettes to gigantic man-o'-wars and ships of the line. Small rowboats and steamboats cut across the glittering waters, resupplying ships that would soon sail out to the many islands and nations of the World Government, defending them from the rising number of pirates. New ships hurriedly left their shipyards, none of them any longer bothering with elaborate ceremonies. The needs of the Marines were just too great to waste even such little time.

Ships returned every day, battered and broken from skirmishes along the country's borders with the territories of the Four Emperors, their crews struggling to run their sails up after having lost friends and comrades in battle and dumped their corpses overboard.

And a few days of repairs later, their losses replenished and crews strengthened, they would go out and do it again, and again, and again. Sometimes, the ships wouldn't return. All that followed their demise or disappearance would be a simple strike in the naval registry at headquarters. The mourning widows, husbands, and friends would receive a letter and a compensation. That was it.

Tsuru remembered the last time the Marines had been at war, and she had hoped even then that she would live to see the end of it.

But now, she hoped even more that her friend would do the same—and that he would be able to keep his promise.

* * *

 **AN Fernandel: _We had some trouble with this section, and this is the one that has been most extensively rewritten from where it started off. I remember that I was very much trying to show the divisions within the leadership of the Marines, kinda went overboard, and we re-worked it all into something more... subtle. Well, as subtle as you can be when Akainu is in the scene._**

 _ **I also wanted to actually show the Marines as... well, 'good guys' is perhaps the wrong word, but at least 'trying to do the right thing'. Despite them being the henchmen of a pretty nasty dictatorship. I wonder if it comes across like that.**_

 ** _Also, I flat-out made up Doctor Vegapunk's characterisation here, as we haven't yet seen him in One Piece. It does seem fitting when you look at his inventions, though._**

 _ **Feedback would be most appreciated! I'd love to hear what you guys and gals think about the way we wrote the Admirals and Marines.**_

 **AN Zaru: Indeed. A normal military situation shouldn't have people yelling and trying to kill each other. Need to present clear and present chain of command after all.**

 **I am also a large fan of the Marines as well. The Straw Hats are the exception to most pirates, as pirates rape pillage and kill. Oda just has a thing for 'muh freedom' here or something. And yes, Vegapunk's personality is carte blanche.**


	4. Chapter 3- Liberate the Empire

The Land of White Soil: Baltigo.

It was an island of no nominal importance. Just one giant, frozen, arid rock in the middle of the stormy, grey-blue sea that was the New World. Few people had ever ventured here, and even fewer had chosen to stay.

Yet civilization was present. Very little of it, but for good reason. This was one of the main headquarters for the army that had made the entire known world its enemy.

They called themselves the Revolutionary Army, and their goal was as simple as it was considered impossible: the dissolution of the World Government, and the deaths of the ones who stood at its very top—the Five Elder Stars and the World Nobles, with their greatest hatred reserved for the Celestial Dragon clan.

It was a goal they were willing to use violent, brutal means to accomplish, preparing to strike both in broad daylight and from the darkest shadows.

They didn't mind. Many of them had suffered or witnessed much worse in their past.

High within Baltigo's complex of towering fortresses built from dark adobe, Monkey D. Dragon stood alone on a balcony, looking down below at a massive pit filled with the bones of the island's dangerous native wildlife. Gila Dragons. Giant Cobras. Gigayotes. It was a dangerous island to live in with such massive and threatening creatures.

A lone figure walked into the arena below, rousing the beasts from their slumber. The snake raised its head first and flared its gargantuan hood, hissing sharply at the newcomer. White fangs gleamed. He ignored the beast, preferring to see eye-to-eye with the yellow-flecked lizard that had slowly turned to face him, its long tongue flickering across a leathery mouth and sharp teeth. A growl made him turn, and he saw the giant coyote bare its teeth, the low snarl from its throat shaking the floor.

They all approached cautiously, their natural enmity forgotten as they approached their challenger. They'd kill first. Whoever got to eat the prey? In their animal minds, that was a matter for another time.

The cobra struck first, spitting poison as it descended on the little human. The beast was surprised when he jumped out of the snapping, and the skull of the monstrous snake rattled when he batted it away with an underhanded swipe of his pipe, making it crash into the closest wall. The thirty-foot coyote saw its chance and leapt at the distracted human. For its trouble, its snout was ground into the rubble when the human leapt into the air, slamming down his pipe between the wolf's eyes with all his might. Before he could snap his jaws open again, the young man had jumped away.

Dragon smiled.

He watched his protégé dart around within the arena, fighting the monsters within for his very life. He had come far from the little boy he'd once been.

It has been nearly eleven years since he found him; scarred, burned, clinging to life by a thread and the last plank of his boat in the waters outside the Goa Kingdom. He heard the young boy's pleas and accusations against his noble family, disgusted at the status quo and bewailing that he could do nothing about it. And it resonated with the tattooed man, for he had felt the same many, many years ago. His memory of his past returned in the aftermath of the War of the Best, for the death of his brother made him catatonic to the world...for a time.

And afterward, he was driven. And it reminded Dragon of himself in a way.

Again, Dragon felt his thoughts drift. Back to the same three people.

Garp. His father was a man Dragon respected, but never loved. His mother was one of three people in his life worthy of his love, and Garp was never there for her. There had been many excuses: drowning in work, pirates running amok, protecting the people… The excuses hadn't been good enough to stop her drowning herself to death with a bottle in hand, and they weren't good enough to blind him about Garp protecting a system that served the Celestial Dragons and foul nobles like the ones in the Goa Kingdom.

Next was a woman that he had long ago abandoned for the sake of her own safety, and she understood the necessary cruelty. As a rebel fighting against the entire world, Dragon knew well enough that they would never meet again, and they conceived the third person on the last night they were together.

His only child, Monkey D. Luffy.

Dragon has only met him once, at Loguetown, to see him off on his journey into the Grand Line. Dragon had never cared much for piracy, but when his spies told him of Luffy's personality—cheerful, determined, kind, and full of wildness—he couldn't help but admire the boy. All he sought was adventure and freedom, the exact opposite of the World Government's ideals of restraint and slavery.

Dragon had never been a good father. On the balcony, the tattooed man smirked mirthlessly. Then again, he had never had a good father himself, so apparently the apple didn't fall far from the tree. But when he learned that Luffy was causing more havoc in under a year than what his operations took nearly a decade to accomplish, he couldn't help but be impressed by his son. He clearly had his mother's smile and spirit, and sometimes the revolutionary hoped that the iron will he had inherited was Dragon's own.

Down below, his Chief of Staff sent the Gigayote flying by swinging the four-ton beast by its tail. And Dragon watched with sharp eyes as the blond man leapt onto the stunned monster's neck, thrusting three fingers into the side of its skull. It exploded in a shower of gore.

Dragon nodded approvingly. The Claws of the Dragon. His subordinate had done well these last twelve years: mastering these lethal arts to an unprecedented level, learning the ins and outs of running a revolution, and fulfilling assignments with their movement's operatives all over the known world.

Footsteps stomped onto the balcony, and someone cleared their throat. "Dragon."

The tattooed man focussed and turned around, his eyes hard. "Terry. You're back. Report."

"Hello to you too," the man groused, lighting a cigarette and scowling. "Our spies at the new Marine HQ have returned with information."

"Good news?"

"Depends on how you see things. Vital intel on a major Marines operation."

"What is it?" Dragon turned away. His eyes fell on the eastern sunrise, but his attention was fully on his trusted lieutenant.

"Apparently, deep within the New World, a nation aligned with the World Government known as the Empire has called for aid. It's asked for military assistance in quelling their own revolution."

The name dragged up old history and memories of confused reports in Dragon's mind. The Revolutionaries had heard of this Empire, but only in name and myth. He had sent spies deep into the Grand Line to confirm its existence, but received no reports. Yet for the World Government to confirm its existence as well as planning to assist? This could be big.

Worse, it was unexpected. Dragon disliked nothing more than unexpected unknowns. They tended to ruin the most carefully laid of plans.

"We never sent agents to this Empire to assist in their rebellion," he said quietly, thinking quickly. "This is clearly a separate issue away from our cause against the World Government. You mentioned military assistance?"

Gilteo nodded sharply. "Yep. According to our sources, the Admiralty is sending one Admiral and five Vice Admirals to oversee an expeditionary fleet to the Empire. Admiral Fujitora's the head honcho, and the Vice Admirals Smoker, Maynard, Bastille, Onigumo, and Vergo are accompanying him. Lots of different ships, too: Busters, liners, frigates, troop carriers… They're going big for this one, boss."

Dragon's mind raced. These were all familiar, well-known, and dreaded names. Vergo was a dangerous, cunning man known for his intellect and ruthlessness. He had ruined far too many rebel operations for his liking. Bastille the Architect was always the Navy's go-to-man to build fortifications, so a long-term strategy was in the works here. Onigumo's ruthlessness had been witnessed by enough informants that the Revolutionaries knew well enough to avoid his fleet. Smoker was a dangerous tactician and Logia Devil Fruit user, and there were few commanders with such extensive experience of true warfare than Maynard the Pursuer. And sending an Admiral to lead them all?

Dragon could already picture it: the Marines would be welcomed like heroes, only to break out the big sticks when their charges started to misbehave.

The revolutionary growled. _'This reeks of Sakazuki's work.'_

"I guess we can't let them do what they want, can we? Well, if they are sending the Wisteria Tiger, it must be important. This Empire… They don't exactly have lackeys of the World Government breathing down their necks there, do they?

"Nope, not from what we're gathering. Apparently, the country has been cut off for quite a long time from the outside world. Centuries, at least, if what I'm hearing is true."

Dragon heard a violent hiss and looked down into the arena. Now his Chief of Staff was doing battle with the giant cobra, and doing well in dodging its snapping mouth. When it again missed him by just a hair's breadth, the man grabbed the snake's hood with a cry, momentum flinging him onto its head as it trying to flail him off. He lifted his hands and let them crash down, the force of his Dragon's Breath pulping the brain inside its skull.

Dragon turned his attention back to Terry Gilteo, ignoring the sounds of carnage and cries of battle from below.

"If the World Government intends to assist this Empire, then they must consider it to be very important. And these aren't times of peace. Blackbeard's Era. Our conflict with the Government. The fallout at Impel Down. They are juggling too many fragile situations at once. Normally, they wouldn't scramble an entire expeditionary fleet to assist a far-off ally. For them to be sending a fleet of this size, they are planning on several things."

Dragon marched past Terry into the dark corridors of the Revolutionaries' fortress, his lieutenant scrambling to follow him.

"One," Dragon thought aloud. "Resources. Not just in raw materials, though I'm sure the World Government will appreciate those too-but I'll bet you anything there's a nice untapped supply of manpower they can use. Sakazuki has been losing too many ships and sailors recently thanks to Blackbeard and the actions of the Worst Generation of Pirates."

Terry gave a noncommittal grunt. Dragon cleared one landing of steps, descending deeper into the depths of the fortress.

"Two. Trade. The Empire has been locked off for god knows how many years. Some say it was even before the World Government, before the Void Century. If they've had centuries of peace, they must have quite likely amassed enough wealth and goods to make even the Celestial Dragons drool. And three… Morale."

Terry looked up, frowning at Dragon's back. "Morale, boss? How d'you figure that part?"

"If they can succeed in assisting a massive state, removed so far away from their traditional holdings… Think of how much confidence the World Government could gain. People would flock more to them than us, confident in the Marines' ability to protect them, no matter how illusory it may be." Dragon looked back at Terry with eyes that could have easily pierced steel. "And we can't have that, can we?"

Terry nodded as Dragon threw open the doors to the arena, nearly running into two other people observing the battle. They were quite mismatched, in everything from size to demeanour.

The taller turned around when Dragon entered, and immediately bowed in deep respect. Clad in a white gi and with a wild mane of blue hair, he was a broad-shouldered fishman whose yellow skin rippled with muscles. His head was mottled with brown spots, and when he lifted it again, peering at Dragon with sharp, dark eyes that were framed by scales, he smiled a smile that showed far too many sharp teeth to be entirely friendly. By human standards, in any case.

"Lord Dragon," he said with a deep basso, the gills on the sides of his neck flaring. He stood up again, one hand reaching up to straighten his mustache absentmindedly. "An honor to see you again, sir."

His companion turned, and unlike the frowning fishman, she had a small smile on her face, radiating mischief and playfulness. Her wide dark blue eyes had a sharpness to them that Dragon had seen in only a very select few of his Revolutionaries. Tall compared to an average human, but only reaching Dragon's chin, she was slim enough that it was hard to tell how old she really was. Her bright orange hair was tucked underneath a crimson newsboy cap with golden goggles, a pink shirt with a frilly collar, a maroon short skirt, and black thigh-high stockings and brown boots showing her curves.

"He's gotten stronger," chirped Koala, wiggling her fingers at Dragon in greeting. "He's been fighting like this for the past few days."

"I noticed," Dragon commented as he observed his Chief of Staff, finally deciding he'd seen enough. With but a twist of his hand, massive gusts of wind swept through the arena, shutting the massive doors that contained the beasts that were kept deep within the underground.

His Chief of Staff looked up and launched himself up in a great leap, hopping up the rock ledges and balconies like a goat to land right in front of Dragon, covered in dried blood and sweat.

"What is it, Dragon?" Sabo asked, panting slightly as he leaned on the railing. "I know it looked bad, but I was totally having them on the ropes! A few more minutes, and it woulda been over!"

Dragon looked over his Chief of Staff from tophat and toes, and found an exhausted young man that nonetheless brimmed with energy, his eyes bright, wild, and determined. He was ready. There was no doubt about it.

"Your next assignment, Sabo. It's a big one."

"What is it?" Sabo said, walking over to the table and pitching up a massive keg of water with one hand. Uncorking the top with his teeth and shamelessly guzzling it down, some water splashed down his chest to wash away the sweat and blood.

"Subversion. The World Government is going to settle in a Continent long thought a myth. This continent has a native civilization called the Empire that is allied with the World Government. We have reason to believe that the Emperor is a World Noble."

"Begging your pardon, sir," the fishman interrupted, his arms still crossed and frowning. "But how come we didn't gotten there beforehand? Making independent nations our allies is much easier than expelling encroaching Marines..."

"We didn't know if this continent actually existed or not, Hack. Now that we do, the World Government is sending in a massive expeditionary fleet to the Empire to install their presence there, as well as quell a nationwide revolution."

Sabo set down the massive keg of water, smacked his lips and belched loudly. Koala sighed and reached over, flicking his ear. "Hey!" he yelped, rubbing his ear and glaring. "What gives?!"

"Manners, manners." She chidingly wagged her finger at him.

The blond boy rolled his eyes, muttering, "Sure thing, mom."

Koala flung a drip of water forming at her fingertips and flicked it at his ear, Sabo yelping even louder in pain. He glared at her and tore his eyes away to meet Dragon's, rubbing his ear all the while.

"This revolution can't be ours, right? Unless you did it without me knowing anything about it. Wouldn't necessarily put it past you, but it really wouldn't make sense."

"No, their revolutionary army is quite definitely separate from ours," Dragon agreed. "But we have a common goal, and that should be enough."

Sabo perked up as he wiped his chin, a grin growing slowly on his face. "Let me guess: you want me to get in touch with the Revolution going on in this Empire and aid them, right? Get a little insurgency going?"

"That, and to kill their Emperor." Dragon narrowed his gaze. "Operation 'Heavens Fall' has an operational clock that will begin its countdown in a year's time at the following Reverie in Mariejois. Killing this Emperor will accelerate that clock. With the Empire on our side, they can assist the Revolution, we gain their resources, and our war against the Government will only go easier."

"Yeah, Heaven's Fall." Sabo turned his head, his neck popping loudly. He smirked. "I can't wait…"

Dragon was all too aware of Sabo's hatred for nobles. That was what made him the perfect man for the job, after all.

"So, when do I set out to talk to these greenhorns?"

"You'll leave within the week. You'll also be using our stealth submarine to shadow the fleet through the Calm Belt. Koala, Hack, you're going too."

Hack nodded gravely. "Understood, sir. We shall not fail."

Koala smiled and giggled. "Visiting a brand new land, it should be a lot of fun! I wish Robin would be able to come along; she would have loved it."

"Nothing we can do about that now."

That Robin woman would have made a fine Revolutionary, Dragon reflected. Well, no matter. She would be safe with his son. If his son could turn Enies Lobby into a smoldering ruin, organise a prison break from Impel Down, and visit Marineford twice and survive, then he could protect the Devil Child and the secrets she held.

"Get rested up. You'll need it." Dragon turned towards the steps, calling over his shoulders as he marched away, "Terry! Inform them in detail on the assignment."

"Aye, boss." His lieutenant saluted lazily and strolled over to chat with Hack and Koala, the girl quickly shoving Sabo away and yelling at him to get a shower. Dragon began to climb up the many steps to return to the top-most balcony, witnessing the rising sun and the dawn of a new day.

And he stared out to the East, for that was where his heart remained.

* * *

 ** _Fernandel: So, we had a bit more to go on with these characters, but the activity of the Revolutionaries is still a big whoppin' mystery in canon for the most part. So we made up as much believable stuff as we could._**

 ** _Most of the work here was done by Zaru, and it was amazing stuff! Sitting down to edit and expand on his work was a lot of fun. Writing Dragon and his gang of ambiguously heroic anarchists is very interesting, if you ask me. Shame we don't see more of them in canon One Piece._**

 ** _Leave me some feedback, folks! I always enjoy hearing what you liked and disliked._**

 **Zaru: Sorry for the tardiness. Was super busy the last few days. Expect more late stuff in the future as I'm getting caught up and I need to write more chapters in and stuff. Anyways, enjoy the revolutionaries.**


	5. Chapter 4- Save the New World

The crisp wind on his face. The spray of the waves, reaching high after they had crashed against the darkened hull of his flagship. The taste of salt on his tongue. The swaying rise and fall of the deck beneath him. The shouts of the petty officers and boatswain as orders were bellowed to the many seamen aboard the gargantuan ship of the line, their feet hammering across the deck and shouts of effort as they fought to rein in and secure their ropes. The small lurch of his stomach as the ship crested yet another wave and cleaved through its crown.

Isshō relished all these things. He raised his head to enjoy the fresh breeze as he gripped the railing with one strong hand, the other hand loosely holding his cane.

It was good to be out to sea again.

He heard a pair of boots approaching across the hard planks of the aftercastle, their heavy heels snapping together sharply a few steps away from him. "Sir, Admiral Fujitora, sir! The Captain has requested me to tell you that the Seventeenth Fleet has been sighted!"

A young, quavering voice. A boy, barely in his teens. An educated inflection to the words, the sort one only got by governesses and private tutors pounding them into skulls in dreary daily lessons, or through constant emulation and studious mimicry of one's 'betters'.

Someone who had been thrown to the Marines by an ambitious family, or shunted away by an already established dynasty? Or just a clever young man who had dreamed of a free life at sea, wanted to travel, and make his mark on the world? Isshō didn't know.

All he knew was that the poor boy was obviously terrified about having to directly address one of the highest-ranking superiors he would ever have to face in his life.

Fujitora turned his head and smiled, nodding. "Thank you, Ensign. Could you please tell me where were they sighted, and how far out they are?"

"North-east-north, sir, just across the horizon! The topmen spotted them an hour ago, and the crow's nest recognized the build of their hulls from afar!"

With a little exercise of his Devil Fruit, Isshō soon knew where the North was. He turned towards the indicated direction, his face pensive. "I see. When will they be joining us, then?"

"Current course towards the northwest gives us another two hours until flag signaling distance, sir!"

"Mmmm...I see." Isshou replied, scratching his beard. " He turned towards the seaman. "Could you guide me to the Transponder Snail room, if you please? I would like to give a speech to the Seventeenth and to the rest of the fleet. I never did get the chance to do so earlier, with Saka-chan more or less booting us out the door."

"S-s-s-Saka…"

"Oh yes, Fleet Admiral Sakazuki." Issho chuckled, clearly imagining the young lad's dumbfounded expression. "...Do yourself a favour and never call him that yourself, by the way. Now, please, the comms room?

"R-Right this way, sir! Just follow me, sir!"

Issho obliged, following the young man by the sound of his footsteps. Tapping his cane to find treacherous steps and ducking his head through the bulkheads, the creaking noises of straining wood in his ears and the vibrations of distant machinery underneath his toes, it took them quite a little while and twists and turns to reach their destination.

When they did, the usually chattering room fell utterly silent. Even blind, the Admiral could feel all eyes in the room on him.

"Good day, ladies and gentlemen. Which Snail allows for the best signal to be sent to the fleets?" Isshō asked, smiling in the direction of the ensign and holding out his empty hand. "Some assistance would be appreciated. I have trouble in… unknown environments, sadly."

After a few moments of hesitation, he felt the the ensign's shaking hand on his, directing it to the Transponder Snail. Some orders were barked by the lieutenant in charge of comms, and Isshō idly listened to the blaring of static as the Transponder Snails throughout the fleet were adjusted to his frequency.

"Thank you," Isshō said with a smile, before raising the microphone to his lips and coughing to clear his throat. "Testing, testing…"

* * *

Vice Admiral Smoker of the Seventeenth Fleet perked up as he heard the main loudspeaker from the giant Transponder Snail atop the bridge of his flagship blare and squeak.

 _"_ _This is Admiral Fujitora speaking…"_ Smoker's undivided attention was directed at the loudspeaker as the Admiral's deep voice echoed from loudspeakers throughout the fleet, all activity but the most vital screeching to a sudden halt. _"_ _I would like to take this time to greet each and everyone of you taking part in this expedition. Some of you I know fondly. Some of you I may have clashed with in recent times. But most of you, aside from looking at a simple file and dossier, I know nothing about personally. Which is why… I am asking for your help."_

Murmurs began to break out amongst the rank-and-file Marines. Smoker and his second-in-command Tashigi remained silent, Smoker chewing on the ends of the cigars in his mouth and the swordswoman adjusting her glasses before they again slipped from her nose.

 _"_ _I ask for your help—because while I am an Admiral of the World Government's Navy, this is my first major assignment. I have commanded smaller joint fleets or led manhunts ever since I was drafted into the Marines two years ago. But this expedition is an enterprise greater than any single one of us in this fleet, no matter our rank or strength. For we are headed to a land that is pure, untouched by the taint of the Great Pirate Era. None of the Pirate Emperors terrorize this land deep inside the New World, yet it is in dire straits, with a bloody revolution aimed at its heart and its people. The Emperor of this Empire, an Empire that has remained separate yet connected to us ever since the founding of the World Government, has asked for our help in quelling this uprising. This Emperor is willing to forsake his pride, his country's pride, as a nation free from the bounds of our rule and rejoin the World Government to save his people."_

Mutters broke out amongst the sailors and Marines. Many of them only learned now of their destination, and concerned and shocked looks were exchanged at the prospect of travelling into the New World.

 _"_ _Now, I am sure some of you are skeptical,"_ Isshō continued, drawing all attention to himself again. The Admiral took a deep breath, a sigh rattling the speakers. _"'_ _An Empire I have never heard of? No piracy to thwart? Not on our home islands and borders? Why should we even bother?' I am sure that you are asking yourselves these questions now, and that you will ask them again in the future, when you are far away from home and missing its comforts._

 _"But I ask each and every single Marine with me today on this voyage: Who are we to turn our backs on this country in dire need of aid? To turn away from those who have not been hardened by the flames of war against the forces who seek to drive our world into chaos? How can we call ourselves Protectors of the World and Enforcers of Justice if we willingly allow this travesty to continue?"_

"Drawing on heartstrings, huh?" Smoker muttered as he inhaled deeply, the tip of his cigars burning bright red before blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. Tashigi shushed him, scowling, and he just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

 _"_ _I ask this so that you may all understand why we have been chosen to save this desperate Empire. We are the ones to set an example. We are the better men. We all have devoted our lives to our noble cause, and we are sworn to the duty of spreading our banner throughout the world._

 _"What has always been our creed, ever since the Navy's founding hundreds of years ago? 'Faithful to Justice, Justice to All.' These people remain under the banner and colours of our united World Government, and as such they must be given protection and justice. Protection from the evils of this rising wave of ruthless criminality taking hold, and justice to the victims of the pirates' and rebels' numerous crimes._

 _"...This world is at the point where it teeters between order and chaos. The Four Emperors claim their ever-growing territories and rule them with an iron fist, enslaving millions and driving an ever-growing number of helpless citizens into misery. Pirates ransack, pillage, kill, and destroy remorselessly. They can only be stopped by strong governments and an united front—and we will create that united front by strengthening our allies and stopping this cancerous revolution from holing out our strength and that of our allies from the inside-out. We must show the world that we have not forgotten our creed and the reason for our continued existence!_

 _"Yet I have found myself at an impasse. For you see, I am unfortunately incapable of succeeding in this excursion on my own. My sight was taken from me a long time ago. But even if I had the keenest eyes in the entire combined fleet of the Marines, I would still lack the sight and strength to do this all by myself. Which is why, everyone—I ask for your help. Grant me your assistance, and I promise to you upon my life..."_

Fujitora paused, and Smoker could tell that many of men on his ship were moved, silent as they listened to this humble man that was their Admiral.  
 _  
"...I will lend you my strength, and I will protect those in this fleet to the best of my ability. I will not lie, however—not all of you will return home. There will be a long journey ahead of us, through dangerous waters that have already claimed the lives of many sailors, whose faithful ships rest at the bottom of a raging sea… And when we arrive at our destination, our mission will involve fighting and violence that will leave none of us unscathed._

 _"_ _But I promise you that your lives will not be wasted! You stand at the precipice of saving a nation, a country, an entire continent from chaos. You stand at the gates of history, your hand raised to knock and to enter the annals of this world. I do not seek glory for myself,"_ and here the Admiral chuckled ruefully, _"_ _though I will warrant a guess that some of you are looking for fortune and fame. Ah, the desires of the young rarely change through the ages. I was like you once as well, and I won't blame you at all._

 _"_ _All I seek now, in my great age… is to build a better future for my grandchildren. So that they no longer have to live in fear of being dragged out of their beds by their hair, sold in foreign countries as slaves to be worked to death in plantations and factories, or robbed of the fruitful earnings of a hardworking, earnest life. I want them to wake up to a better and brighter tomorrow when I am gone._

 _"_ _I am an old man. I can only do so much. I call upon you, my brothers and sisters in arms, to lend me your aid. And I will do my best to give you all my power to you in turn. I am sure many of you are fathers, brothers, uncles, sons, wives, daughters, aunts, sisters. Do you wish to build a better future for your children? Your wives and husbands? Your brothers and sisters? I do. And I ask you to help me pave a future where that may be possible. Where piracy is dead, and future generations no longer have to go to bed in fear listening to the stories of evildoers freely roaming the seas. Do not forget that we represent not just the Navy and Marines, but the entire world! Though it may be part of our World Government, this Empire is as unknown to us as we are to them. We must put our best foot forward, and aim to set the right example for these people._

 _"That is all have I have to say. You are my brothers and sisters in arms, and as such I will consider you all as my family. And I will protect you all to my dying breath. For the sake of the ones who will follow our trail. For the sake of Justice. That is all. Dismissed."_

The Giant Transponder Snail turned off with a loud click and fell silent, and everyone stood still, staring and exchanging quiet looks. The only sound was that of the waves and the wind and seagulls overhead. Smoker sat up, walking to the edge of the deck and looking down at his men, who remained star-struck.

 _'_ _Old man Fujitora laid it on a bit thick there,'_ Smoker thought grimly as he scanned the crowd, seeing determined looks on even the most cynical of his subordinates. _'_ _But I can't deny that it got the job done. Now they just a good kick in the ass to get them moving again.'_

"Well, you heard the boss!" Smoker bellowed out, easily making himself heard across the entire ship, and his subordinates jumped to attention. "We have an Empire to save! An example to set! Let's give Admiral Fujitora the best we can! Unfurl those sails and get me a course for the Grand Line! That clear, ladies and gents?! For Justice!"

"YAE-AYE, SIR!" they roared back as one, many already jumping to their stations after a quick salute. "FOR JUSTICE!"

"The Admiral has a way with people," Tashigi said quietly when he rejoined her at the steering wheel, adjusting the course of the ship after a quick glance at the sky.

"It's not that he has a way—he's just humble and in today's age that is as rare as a god damn unicorn," Smoker answered, looking up at the sails of his battleship and turning to look behind him. His Seventeenth Fleet was in the lead of this expedition, and in the distance he could spot the white sails of other massive flagships and their escorts sailing towards them, the Marines' Anchor emblazoned brightly across them. Battleships, frigates, destroyers, supply ships, all with their banner flying straight in the wind and their sails full to the brim with a solid breeze coming from the South-East, eagerly chivvying them along as if it had personally heard the Admiral's speech. Their faster escorts would probably have to reduce sail just so not to outrun their larger, heavier protectees.

"And it's been a long time since a humble man has taken the title of Admiral. Still…" He looked out to sea, off to the horizon where they sailed towards. An unknown land with an unknown future. "The future ain't set in stone. Nothing ever is. The future is made by the decisions we make, here and now. If someone's trying to keep you down with prophecy and fate, then it's nothing but horseshit. Always remember that, Tashigi.

"Now," he looked back at Tashigi, taking a long drag from his cigars. "Get me across that horizon as fast as you can. Can you do that?"

She smiled back at him, twisting the steering wheel a teensy bit and gaining another fraction of a knot out of already bursting sails. "Aye-aye, sir. Always."

* * *

On the bridge of another ship on the far flank of the fleet, sailors jumped to and fro to keep the ship on its steady course. Only the bridge had a small measure of serenity, but it was shattered once the man standing at the railing turned to grin at his captain.

"Wow. Great speech from the Admiral!" he called out with a grin, the light catching on the visor covering his eyes. "He's got the boys and girls all fired up!"

"Indeed, Lieutenant Helmeppo!" the man holding the steering wheel called back, grinning from ear to ear. "The Admiral said it best: we're the World Government's representatives to the entire world. Better not make a bad impression, don't you think?"

"That depends entirely on whether you'll be allowed to go ashore or not, Cap'n! Next thing we know, you'll have made friends with everybody who's important by sheer accident!"

"That was dumb luck; we can't count on it twice!" came the good-natured answer, and they both laughed.

The two made a strange pair standing on the ship's bridge. One was a tall visored man with curly blond hair whipping in the wind, his violet turtleneck clashing violently with a lime-green jacket, and a pair of curved knives hanging from his belt in easy reach. The other was similarly tall, his short strawberry pink hair wrapped in a green bandana and a pair of round glasses settled safely on his forehead, a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

Unlike his companion, he'd chosen to wear the standard Marine uniform—a long-sleeved shirt, dark blue trousers, and waterproof dark boots. The only thing that clearly distinguished from the other sailors aboard the ship was the white, gold-tresselled overcoat that he wore like a cape across his shoulders, the emblem of "Justice" emblazoned across his back. Anyone familiar with the symbol would recognize him as a Captain of the Marines.

"Still, I'm excited about this," Captain Coby continued, grinning.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Think about it—we're going to a new continent, unknown lands! No pirates and completely foreign to us? We're entering a new world, and we have the chance to make their lives better through our actions. Doesn't that sound like a great adventure, Lieutenant?"

"Hah!" Helmeppo grabbed the railing as the ship buckled, frowning. "I'd rather be hunting pirates with Vice Admiral Garp, honestly. If I heard this right, this voyage may take several weeks to several months! And that's just travel time! Who knows how long we'll be staying in this 'Empire'?"

"I'm sure you've grown into your sea legs by now, Lieutenant." Coby chuckled as he leaned hard left on the steering wheel to keep his ship steady, looking out to sea as his ship sailed alongside the massive dark-green battleships. He saw signal flags shoot up on Smoker's ship, recognizing the sequence asking his frigate to scout ahead.

"Get those sails unfurled!" Coby called out, and Helmeppo jumped into the fray at his command, bellowing orders of his own. "I want her to go as fast as she can!"

An entirely new world to explore… Luffy would be green with envy at the prospect. The Captain smiled brightly, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"I can hardly wait!"

* * *

Deep underneath the waves, Sabo stared out into the depths of the sea. He rode in the passenger seat of a small submersible, Koala manning the controls and driving. He was doing his best to co-pilot, though Koala had long ago shushed him into silence. Besides, he would admit he wasn't much of a driver.

He saw a massive darker shape approach and yawned. Such was the nature of a submarine travelling through the Calm Belt—Sea Kings could make a meal of whomever they pleased. This particular one looked like a mix between a whale shark and an ostrich, complete with avian neck, beak, and beady little eyes. The beast considered them for a moment and then opened its massive maw, ready to consume the undersea vessel whole.

Only for a white and yellow dart to come soaring in, punching the Sea King right between the eyes and making the leviathan buckle and turn, swimming away in fear and pain. Sabo raised his hand, cheerfully waving and giving their rescuer a thumbs-up. And Hack looked back and gave them one in turn, moving in the water even faster and more gracefully than he ever did on land.

 _'Fascinating people, those fishmen',_ Sabo thought as Hack swam towards the submarine, the hulking hybrid trailing alongside them with his webbed fingers tapping on the window. Morse code.

 _Navy Fleet is five kilometers ahead of us stop They are just about finished gathering the other fleets stop_

The blond man leaned forward and tapped out his response.

 _Roger that stop We will trail them stop_

Hack was used to staying out there under such intense water pressure and for so long. He was a Fishman, after all, and they needed a defense against Sea Kings as well as a capable scout to trail the fleet.

"Well, this is gonna be a long trip," Koala mused with forced cheer, her hands steady on the controls as she peered up at the light breaking through the uppermost layers of the sea, trying very hard not to look into the gloomy depths below. "Going up to collect air will be pain for us when we need to find the fleet again."

"We'll deal. We've dealt with worse before." Sabo tipped his hat over his eyes, settling himself in his seat to make himself more comfortable. "Hey, wake me up when it's my turn to pilot, all right?"

"Sure. I'll wake you in six hours, give or take. Get some rest while you can."

Sabo grunted in the affirmative and began dozing off at the sound of the machinery of their vessel, the first dreams of a simpler time in the Goa Kingdom's Grey Terminal at the edge of his mind.

He couldn't let this Empire be under the World Government's thumb, nor under the claws of the Celestial Dragons. Or any World Noble, for that matter.

It was because of them that the Marines carried on with their hateful feud against all criminals, with even their children not being spared. If it hadn't been for _them_ , Ace would never had been prosecuted. If it hadn't been for _them_ , Ace would never been made to pay for the sins of his father. If it hadn't been for _them_ , Ace would never have had to die.

And if it hadn't been for them, Luffy would never have had to see his brother die right there in his arms…

"Luffy... Ace…" Sabo murmured as his eyes fell closed, and for just a few fleeting moments, he was a child again.

* * *

 ** _Fernandel: So, that was an interesting chapter to work on! Zaru gave me the bulk of the text I needed to build on, and build on it I did. I'm especially proud of Isshou's speech here, since I felt it needed to show the... well, idealism of the Marines as well-meaning providers of safe harbour and justice in a harsh world that might otherwise be dominated by pirates. I'm not sure whether that came across too well, but eh. And we wanted to show Sabo's rebellious idealism and bitterness as well, justified as it is._**

 **Zaru: Here's an update for ya. Sorry for the delay. Family and business affairs, as usual. Anyways, we see Issho as a humble man in a position of power. Yet he is clearly willing to use power, unlike King Riku III, as shown in canon OP. So yes, we have many Marines on board, including my fan favorite Coby. Love the dude to death.**

 **Anyways, next chapter will have us in the Empire, so you can say we are out of the prologue arc! We originally planned to bring this and all the prior chapters here into one giant epilogue buuuut... you know me and massive wordy chapters. Anyways, working on the next segment as we speak, which hopefully could take 2 chapters total here and on SV/SB. Hope you all enjoyed and review your thoughts!**


	6. Chapter 5- Kill the Boredom

The yellow sun blaring down unto the turquoise blue sea of the New World was utterly stifling, and Coby tried to shuffle with as much dignity he had left into the little shadow cast by the main sail onto the aftercastle of his ship. He lifted up the rim of the cap he had hurriedly borrowed for the day, squinting along the horizon. The waters were calm, but alive enough to set the water dancing, meaning that it reflected the sunlight into a million tiny pinpricks that stabbed his eyes.

Coby muttered a curse under his breath, wiping away sweat from his brow and wishing he could ditch the heavy captain's cloak that laid on his shoulders, already soggy and disgusting with sweat.

"Rough day, Captain?" Helmeppo called out from his spot by the steering wheel, keeping an eye on the wind with one eye and on the essential instruments of navigation with the other—a compass that was nearly useless on this side of the globe due to wild magnetic fluctuations, a myriad of charts that were copied from originals in the Navy Archives that were probably hundreds of years old and contained as much speculation as they contained outdated information and bad math, and a barometer that Coby hoped wasn't able to lie to him.

"If you define 'rough' as 'are we making bad time to the Empire'… We might be doing exceedingly well, Meppo, so no." Coby squinted at the horizon again, squinting. "If you define it 'Am I currently feeling exceedingly uncomfortable because I have gained my weight in sweat and can't see shit', then yes, I'm having a rough day."

"Could be worse, Captain," Helmeppo answered cheerfully. "You could be a rich kid that never really saw the sun until he joined the Marines." He lifted up his visor, and the chalk-white outline across his brow framed by a hangdog expression on his completely red face made Coby grin. "Pretty sure I ran out of sunblock a week back."

"The ladies love a tan, Meppo," Coby shot back, leaning against the railing in the shade and grinning. "Hardworking sailors are pretty popular in port, you know."

"Pretty sure the ladies don't like red-white zebras walking on two legs, sir," his first mate retorted gloomily, putting his visor. "And guess who gave me the wheel on Forenoon Watch, and who I then can blame for it?"

"Oh, come on! It's not that bad. You're still pretty handsome, Mister Goldilocks." Coby's grin widened a bit more. "Besides, you'd be surprised! Did you know one of the jailers in Impel Down ate a Zoan Devil Fruit and got stuck as a zebra? He's apparently really shy, but apparently his stamina is, uh… appreciated, I guess?"

"Captain Coby telling dirty jokes," Helmeppo tutted, shaking his head and swallowing a smirk. "Command has changed you for the worse, sir."

"So I've been trying to practice my Color of Observation, and I am surrounded by sailors who are all incredibly dirty-minded. Both the men and women, by the way. So I am stuck hearing things I rather wouldn't know about," Coby muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned around and shaded his eyes, trying to spot something on the horizon, and swore loudly. "Still nothing! What a mess!"

"Well, I guess one thing's nice about being me," Helmeppo sang out gleefully. "I have sun glasses and night goggles wrapped up in one, so I'm not feeling like a barnacle when the sun's out!"

Coby's temper frayed, and he turned around and glowered at his best friend. "Keep talking like that, and you can have the First Watch as well, Commander Helmeppo!"

The prospect of having to get up at midnight to steer the ship for another four hours in the dark made Helmeppo gulp. "Sirnosirshuttingupnowsir."

Coby waved it off. "Ah, whatever. Besides, the sun's been out for three weeks, and we haven't yet seen land! Are you sure we're on the right track?"

Helmeppo lifted up the receiver to the Transponder Snail on the aftercastle. "Been reporting our position, speed, and direction to the flagship every twenty minutes, sir, as ordered. Admiral Fujitora's got the only working Log Pose that leads to the Empire, so we have to rely on him. He says we're getting closer every day and to keep the course."

"Awesome," Coby muttered. "This entire thing seemed so much more like a fun adventure when things were happening." He draped himself over the railing, watching the water churn in the ship's wake. "Ugggh… Seriously, how did he handle all this boredom?"

"Who do you mean, sir?" asked Helmeppo.

"You know. Luffy." Coby straightened up, squinting up at the skies. "I mean, causing a ruckus and trouble wherever he sets foot can't be the only thing he does."

"Well, I've only ever gotten to known Roronoa, but I'll bet that the entire crew is an endless bundle of energy," his first mate commented. "I mean, from what I can tell, Strawhat's a piece of work and probably never sleeps. I bet his crewmates have to do everything they can to manage him."

"Well, I'm not Luffy… I guess we will have to deal with it."

"Besides, Captain, it's been smooth sailing so far. I think we should thank our stars for the peace and quiet! All we have to do is go to some unknown regions and chart a course into the unknown from there, braving all the dangers of Paradise we've yet to see. The Empire should be just beyond those!" Helmeppo raised his visor, grinning cheekily at his superior. "Sounds like a breeze to me."

"Yeah, sure," Coby grinned. "Now you only need to say 'Oh, what's the worst that could happen', and we'd have all we need to whistle up Davy Jones from his locker. No more boredom, eh?"

Helmeppo's head tilted slightly, his visor back across his eyes and his attention suddenly on the far horizon. "Speaking of which, Cap'n..." he said quietly. "Far horizon, ten degrees port. Clouds forming, fast."

Coby blinked fast, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with one hand. "What the—"

"Cumulonimbus, by my count," Helmeppo continued quickly. "Those don't look all that healthy, boss."

"Keep the course until belayed, Commander!" Coby ordered, vaulting over the castle's railing and hitting the deck. "I'm going topside!"

"Aye-aye, sir! Watch your grip!"

Coby had already launched himself into the ship's rigging, climbing up with the speed of a trained monkey. Garp had insisted that his two students had enough skill clambering up and down the various sections of a sailing ship and perform its necessary jobs, arguing that a commander should not demand their subordinates perform dangerous tasks they weren't capable of themselves.

Coby had resented him a little bit at the time for his high standards, but he could not deny the thrill of satisfaction as he reached the highest yardam in under half a minute.

He brought out his telescope and snapped it open, searching for the clouds Helmeppo had spotted with his far keener eyes.

In the far distance, Coby saw a riotous clash of colours as clear blue sky was eaten away by boiling white clouds swallowing themselves into grays and dark blacks, feeding itself and growing higher and higher until the turquoise sea turned a deep, menacing blue, flashes of light twisting through it.

"Helmeppo!" he bellowed down to the castle. "Check the barometer, now!"

"…Falling fast, Cap'n! Faster than anything I've ever seen!"

Coby stowed his telescope away, took a deep breath, and with a swing of his legs let go of the rigging, plummeting a few dozen yards down to the deck and badly startling the group of sailors he landed in-between.

"What in th' blazes is th' meaning of this, Cap'n?!" a woman with a large scowl and a lieutenant's epaulets demanded indignantly, tricorn hat askew. "Ye could have hurt someone!"

"Storm's ahead, Lieutenant Bagration!" Coby explained hastily. "Sorry! Biggest one we've seen yet in Paradise! We need to get the ship ready for it!"

"Well, why didn't ye say so, eh?!" Lieutenant Basilea Bagration yelled back, reaching for her neckline and producing a silver whistle. The deafening shrill it produced made all aboard the ship jump and halt in their tracks.

It was nonetheless still quieter than the roar that followed out of the short woman's throat.

"ALL HANDS ON STATION, LADIES, AND FASTEN UP YER LIFELINES! STORM'S A-COMIN', AND NONE OF YEW LOT IS GOING TO MEET THE FISHER KING WITHOUT MY DAMN SAY-SO! JUUUUUMP TO IT!"

The entire deck exploded into movement, ensigns and boatswains calling out orders and blowing into their own whistles, calling all other shifts onto the deck to fasten the lines and check the rigging.

Lieutenant Basilea Bagration, Second Officer aboard this Navy vessel and thirty-year veteran of the Marines, surveyed the controlled chaos around her sternly and then glanced sideways at her captain with a raised eyebrow. "Well, shouldn't yew be captainin' or somethin'? Sir?"

Coby closed his mouth, nodding numbly. "I suppose I should."

"Better leave ye to it, then. OI!" Bagration swore and stalked off. "Wilcox, ye darn numbskull! Don't cross those lines that way unless ye plan on stranglin' yer mates, in which case I promise I'll do the honours meself so yew can join 'em, ye hear me?!"

Coby turned to look up at Helmeppo, who hung to the rudder and merely shrugged, looking just as bewildered as he felt. "Orders, Captain?"

"Keep the course for now!" Coby turned out and saw a young midshipman off to the side, pointing at him. "Ensign Honsell, front and center!"

The boy saluted, nearly hitting himself in the eye. "Sir?!"

"Gather all the data you can on our weather, position, and speed, and it get down to the comms room! Express communication to the Rear Admiral, now!"

"Siryessir!" the boy squeaked out and ran off, fumbling for pen and paper. For a moment, Coby remembered how young that boy was and how he looked just like him a few months ago, and shrugged it off.

He grabbed his scope again, shook it out, and peered through it at the dark and rolling clouds that were rising up as if they would storm the heavens.

"That storm ain't right…" he muttered. "Shouldn't have asked for excitement around here…"

* * *

Smoker stared at his immediate superior, cigars nearly falling out of the corners of his mouth. "You can't be serious."

"Indeed I am, Admiral Smoker," Isshō said calmly, sitting in the middle of the command deck. "We will keep the fleet's current course and heading. It's the correct course. I can feel it in my bones."

"If the reports coming in from the vanguard are true, Admiral, then this is quite possibly the biggest storm I've ever seen," Smoker said slowly. "We are going to lose hundreds of men."

"Get the ships into a closer formation, designate search and rescue elements and appoint ships to tow any damaged stragglers," Isshō instructed, his scarred face betraying no emotion. "But it is imperative that we clear this storm as soon as possible."

"Admiral, this is fooli—"

"Admiral Smoker, we have no time," Isshō interrupted, leaning heavily on his cane. "Unfortunately, there is a reason why the Empire has been cut off from our shores for so long. The storm is the obstacle Nature has decided to put in our way to reach the Empire. We must face it head-on."

"Sir, with all due respect, we still have time to chart a different course that'll take us around this mess!" Smoker snapped, literally fuming. "There must be another path to the Empire!"

"There is one, and none who have attempted it have ever reached the shores of the Capital," Isshō said gently, bowing his head. On the floor before him, a map had been spread out, little pins and needles sticking out of it and pieces of string connecting them.

The Admiral gently touched one, following it into a section of the map that the old cartographer had darkened, the faded red and blue lines designating currents becoming more and more jumbled until they cut off entirely.

The shape of a circle they were hinting at was unmistakable to Smoker's eyes, however.

"That other route will lead us all to our death," Isshō declared, his heart heavy. "We will have to choose certain peril in order to avoid certain destruction."

Smoker bit down hard on his cigars and raised his eyes to the darkening horizon, mind racing. "We might lose some of our ships. If the winds will get as fast as the barometer implies, we won't be able to slow down."

"The New World has claimed many ships before our passage," Isshō agreed, his shoulders sagging. "And it will claim many more after. But we have no choice."

He traced a different strand of string, and Smoker's eyes followed it on their current course towards the picture of a stormy cloud and a miniature depiction of a snarling, seven-headed beast.

"And the storm may just be the least of our concerns…"

* * *

Fernandel AN: Soooooo, seems our intrepid Marines will be having a bit of a rough time ahead of them to reach their destination. Stay tuned for what comes next, and leave some feedback! :D

Merry Christmas, Zaru, Teslashark, Juubi-K , and everybody else! :)

Zaru AN: Yeaaaah this took longer than expected. But hey, life happens and Fernandel had a lot of things to take care of. In addition, I have been writing scenes and segments ahead of this chapter actually. So we have more in store... Just gotta bridge in the gaps between the segments. Hope you all enjoyed!

If anyone wants to adopt my other stories as well, don't be afraid to PM me


End file.
